Heaven's Empire

Gold

I looked undeniably like myself, but somehow, everything had changed.

My face was recognisable my own, but at the same time seemed to belong no longer to a sixteen year old. It wasn't that I had aged, exactly, but now there was a regality to my features that hadn't been present before.

To start with, my skin had assumed a goddess-like glow. My naturally high cheekbones had a soft, pale shimmer. The same shimmer danced lightly down my nose, across my forehead and on my chin and Cupid's bow. Gentle shadows had been allowed to linger in some areas, but my skull did not appear as painfully hollow as I thought it normally did.

Just as my overall skin tone did not seem to have changed, my features too were my own still. But here, too, the areas I wanted others to focus on had been accentuated, and the imperfections I wished away had faded so as to be invisible.

My lips were a warm nude not far from their natural shade, my eyebrows thin, symmetrical hazel arches that perfectly framed my eyes.

My eyes - where to begin? They were always the features that I saw upon my face first. Wide and blue-grey, they were the one thing I never felt the desire to change about myself. It was as though Mario had known this; while he had amended my other imperfections, he had left my eyes intact in their original shape and style.

What he had done, however, was ensure that anyone else's eyes would be drawn to mine the way I wanted them to be the instant they looked at me. Pale stardust sparkled in the inner corners of my eyes, blending seamlessly into the champagne gold shimmer that shone in the centre of my lids. Towards the outer corner the colours bled into darker shades in a kind of ombre-effect, sweeping out to soft brown wings at the edge of my eyes. My lashes were lifted in a way that made it look as though I had been genetically blessed - I only knew there must be mascara there because Mario had applied it earlier.

My hair loosely framed my face in gentle waves that appeared, like everything else, to be completely natural. I knew they couldn't be, because of the way I could usually find a hair out of place, but here, no matter where I searched for flaws, there were none to be found.

I wondered if it was the shimmer around my eyes that made me view myself in such a golden way.

I caught sight of Mario in the mirror, and though he didn't shimmer with golden glitter, I saw him too in a new light. He wasn't like most artists, whose job it is to transform someone into a character unreachable and unrealistic. He didn't value the fact that his client could look nothing like themselves after sitting in his chair. He wouldn't replace someone with something they weren't - it was his priority to leave people largely as they were.

He wasn't painting over a canvas, leaving it white and blank before starting again -  he was merely adding the finishing touches to transform the ordinary to the masterpiece. I understood that then, and, trying to think of the words to sum up what I felt, I could only find:

"Thank you."

"Thank you, Stasia, for letting me work with you." He paused a moment, before adding: "Now you see it, don't you?"

"See it?" I asked confusedly.

"My aim was to make you see yourself in the way that others do. I think I have succeeded."

"I could never look like this without your help."

"It is as I already said: I could never make you beautiful; you already are. All I have done is given you the power to see yourself as others do. You see only your imperfections, you find your darkness first when you look at your reflection. But everyone else is too blinded by you to find any shadows."

I didn't know how to reply. I suspected would never be able to compete with this man; he could craft beauty in every form: fabric, makeup, and, it seemed, in words.

"Come on," he said softly. "You must try on your dress."

He reached for the black case containing the garment, snapping his fingers at the nearest person, a woman was preoccupied adjusting one of the lights but virtually jumped to attention for Mario.

"How can I help, Sir?"

"Get some screens around this corner. Quickly, please, this is a model's time we are using."

The woman called several of her colleagues to help her and within a minute several black screens enclosed the area around the dressing table, tall and sturdy enough to ensure no one could look in. Mario reached for the case in which the dress was contained, saying only:

"I hope I have selected something you like."

He unveiled it, and I had no words. Numb and speechless, I shed the silk gown, slipped on a slim nude bodysuit and stepped in the dress. Mario fastened it at the back and I could have sworn it was built for my body. Every inch of the fabric seemed to embrace my skeleton, hugging my figure as though it was not a garment, but an extension of my very skin.

I turned to Mario, who opened yet another case to reveal not brushes or bottles but jewellery. Nestled in a black velvet cushion was a gold ring, exquisitely carved to look like melting ribbons of the precious metal. I slipped it onto my finger; it was a touch too loose, but no less stunning.

Mario gently pushed my hair back from my face, adding two ornate earrings to my ensemble. Rearranging my hair, he touched a couple of strands lightly with a comb, slipping a bracelet onto my wrist and helping me into the heels he had shown me earlier.

"My work is done," was all he said.

Finding myself unable to speak words sufficient to the task of thanking him, I stepped out from beyond the screens concealing me, dimly aware of the fact I had to pose for another set of photos.

The room, which had been bustling with activity and noise, fell silent.